


Tripping On Skies

by kidspawn02



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Beaches, Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, troye sivan lyrics, writing warm-ups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 12:57:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7509136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidspawn02/pseuds/kidspawn02
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No, this place was not as nice as Ogygia.<br/>It was far, far better.<br/>________<br/>Alternatively: Calypso and Leo go to the beach</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tripping On Skies

**Author's Note:**

> *shamelessly makes drabbles based off of Blue Neighbourhood*  
> Whenever I hear YOUTH I always think of Caleo, and I've been trying to write pathetically for weeks. So I had the song stuck in my head, and this drabble just popped out.  
> Enjoy!

_ My Youth _

_ My Youth is yours _

_ Tripping on skies, sipping waterfalls. _

_ My Youth _

_ My Youth is yours, _

_ Run away now and forevermore. _

* * *

 

Ogygia had beaches - long stretches of perfect white sand, the waves crashing along the shore, sweeping over in perfect curls. The tide never rose too high, the water never left her feeling sticky and salty, the sand never seemed to stick to her feet, and there were never any jellyfish to sting her.

Calypso preferred this beach.

The water was too cold, causing Calypso to shriek as it washed up over her sand-coated feet. It was still far too cold, the winds causing her to shiver underneath her cotton white sundress. Her hair, loose and unbound, had been stirred into a frenzy, occasionally getting caught in her mouth.

“How do you like this beach?” Leo asked, scooping a pile of sand into his hands. He had begun shoveling it into a pile, shaping it into some sort of dome. 

She tipped her head, considering. More water washed up near her toes, licking at her nails. “It’s.... sticky.”

“Sticky?” Leo raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk on his face.

She grabbed at a bit of sand and held it over her head threateningly. He laughed, ducking as she tossed bits at his face, the wind carrying grains into her eyes.

Through her suddenly blurred vision, she registered Leo tipping his head backwards as he laughed. His hair curled around his ears, and tipped onto his forehead, his eyes crinkling, mouth wide and body shaking. She struggled to keep the smile off of her face, but couldn’t stop herself from grinning at the dimple in one of his cheeks.

“I don’t know why that amuses me so much.” He said after his laughter had died down. He shuffled more sand, shaping his dome into a cube. “I’ll just thank the gods that no jellyfish have washed up yet - we don’t want your legs getting stung, now do we?”

Calypso rolled her eyes, and laid down to stare up at the sky. It was not a perfect picture in any sense of the word - dull, grey, and lifeless, with clouds blocking the sun. But then again, she was finding a strange charm in how calm the colour made her feel, how the cold contrasted wonderfully with her flushed cheeks.

For some reason, her cheeks had been flushed more and more often - she didn’t know if Leo really had that much of an affect on her, (truly, he shouldn’t, because he was a dork and Calypso considered herself able to deal beautifully with dorks) or if she was just that excited to finally be seeing the world.

“Is getting stung really that common?” She finally asked.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him shrug. 

“I wouldn’t know - I haven’t gone to the beach a whole lot.” Leo pressed a seashell into the top of his dome. “I never really had time, what with running from everything.”

Calypso was silent when he said this - they had touched on his childhood before, but never in explicit detail. All she knew were the good things - his mother, for instance. She had heard of Esperanza Valdez, with her strong arms, and warm heart, caring for her son, raising him with a strength that most men would be envious of. When Leo spoke of her, Calypso decided not to call back a memory of her - rather, she drew an image of a Latina woman, with wild black hair, dark skin, and warm brown eyes. 

Leo’s eyes had a certain sparkle when he recalled his mother, a sparkle that had been showing up more and more lately. There was something more sincere about it than his typical form of humour, and Calypso always found herself grateful for her extensive memory, so that she could capture the picture with her mind and always hold onto the warmth blossoming in her chest. 

But the spark would fade sometimes - mostly, she realized, when she inquired as to where she was now.

(She had first asked after the third story, in a forest in Michigan, and he had grown deadly quiet. His mutter of, “She’s not around anymore” was enough to make her lean over and press a kiss to his mouth before he turned away, obviously done talking for the night.)

Calypso recognized the mood right away, leaning over to press a kiss to his mouth. He returned the pressure right away, but pulled away before anything more could come of it. 

That was another thing that Calypso had learned - Leo was surprisingly careful about displays of physical affection. Every little display left a lasting impression, and burned a place in her memory. Every press of lips, everytime she rested her head on his shoulder, every instance when their fingers brushed against each other, she remembered it more vividly than she remembered her own hands.

“I like it.” She finally said, when she was settled on her back once again. “It’s simple. Not nearly as nice as Ogygia.”

“I’m sorry.” He returned, bending over and pressing his fingers in a repeated pattern into the block of sand. “I wish I could find a beach as nice as your home - or any place as nice as your home.”

She shook her head, letting out a huff of laughter. “No, I don’t need that at all.” She turned her head to admire the pattern of shells and finger imprints that adorned the sand. “I like this one much better.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Because I  _ chose  _ to go here, and you’re the one who brought me.”

His laughter echoed in her ears, and soon she felt arms scooping under her knees and behind her shoulders. “Well, there is something I need to show you.”

She popped an eye open, and he threw her in, not wasting time in hopping in to sit next to her as the waves crashed endlessly against their laughing forms.

* * *

 

Two hours later, she was tired, covered in salt, with a jellyfish sting on her leg. But she was also curled up in Leo’s arms, the stars just beginning to break through the fading daylight, a comfortable warmth spreading through her body as his breath curled over the back of her neck. Nearby, Festus was curled up and resting, and she felt Leo's fingers tapping patterns into her arm.

No, this was not as nice as Ogygia. 

This was far, far better.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't been able to write anything PJO related for WEEKS, so this is mostly just to get my writing flow going. I hope you enjoyed this - I have such a soft spot for Caleo, I just think that they're the sweetest.  
> Have a lovely day <3


End file.
